


Not Taking Orders

by talkingtothesky



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Casual Sex, Friends to Enemies, Gen, Guns, HIV Mention, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Out of Character, Post-Episode: s03e09 The Crossing, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 09:49:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14234658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: John isn't listening to Harold.(Three unconnected ficlets inspired by a prompt.)





	1. Bottle (Harold & John)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [April Flounces By](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14169414) by [Zaniida](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaniida/pseuds/Zaniida). 



" _Mr. Reese_. I’m afraid I must ask you to stop that -- immediately."

Reese drained the bottle, then put it down delicately on the bar. He gave the glass a nudge with his fingers. It toppled and rolled away.

"Gonna make me, Finch?"

Finch hesitated to come closer, when John was in such an unpredictable mood. But he did put a hand out to catch the bottle before it fell.

The place was deserted, except for a few unconscious guys sprawled out over tables, crumpled on the floor.

The owner had long since fled. He'd tried to call the cops, but Harold had activated a signal jammer, so there would be no need to waste more time procuring John from lockup.

"You have work to do," he reminded John, keeping his voice level with an effort.

"I don't wanna hear about the numbers! Already told you, I'm done. I don't care anymore." The slight weave of Reese's head, side to side, as though flexing his neck, gave an impression of how intoxicated he must be. It also made him look dangerous, to an extent Harold had never seen before.

"If you didn't care, you wouldn't be drinking to numb the pain of it."

A snort. "I'm just having a few beers. Lighten up." There were at least ten empty bottles scattered around him.   

Harold gestured at the bloodied bodies. "And these people?"

John cracked the lid on another, flicking the bottle top away so that it bounced off a menu. "Went to school with him."

Simmons. John couldn't even say his name. Harold grit his teeth. If he closed his eyes, he would see it again. His best friends being gunned down in front of him. He relived it every time he tried to sleep.

"This vengeance spree of yours. It has to end sometime."

A slightly manic smile. "Everything ends sometime, Harold."


	2. Gun (Harold & John, Harold & The Machine)

" _Mr. Reese_. I’m afraid I must ask you to stop that -- immediately."

"Or, 'stop that.' Why twelve words instead of two?"

"It's called manners, John. Fine, we'll do it your way." He picked up the gun from the windowsill and pointed it at him. "Step away from the desk."

A dismissive hand gesture. John didn't even look at him. "You don't have a clue how to fire that." He kept typing.

"You won't save anyone by breaking into the Machine." Harold's hands were shaking. The gun was heavy, and he desperately did not want to shoot his friend. But the Machine was everything. John attacking it meant their friendship was already dead.

Safety off. "I'll ask you one more time."

Reese finally turned to him. Gestured at his own chest. "Go ahead."

Harold pulled the trigger and missed. The bullet shattered the screens instead.


	3. Phone (John/OMC, John/Harold)

" _Mr. Reese_. I’m afraid I must ask you to stop that -- immediately."

The voice in his earpiece sent dread through his heart and lightning through his dick. _"Shit."_ He thrust harder out of sheer frustration.

The young blond he was fucking threw his head back, trying to lean on John's shoulder, moaning "Aw, yeah."

And Finch was somehow aware of all of it. _Fucking_ Finch.

He'd turned his phone off. Definitely. Harold must have remotely turned it on and reactivated the Bluetooth. He slammed a fist against the wall, brick dust scattering. John kept moving, there was nothing for it, he couldn't suddenly reply. If Finch wanted to watch, he had no right to play the jealous card.

Harold spoke again, sounding panicked. "He's HIV-positive, John!"

John plucked the device from his ear and tossed it, into the dark.


End file.
